


Worst. Therapist. Ever.

by Sexjokenotintended



Category: Glee, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Other, Therapy, i wrote this in one go, this is your problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexjokenotintended/pseuds/Sexjokenotintended
Summary: Will Schuester is sent to court mandated therapy after being convicted of the murder of his co-worker, Sue Sylvester. If you have any qualms of how this is unrealistic, may I remind you you're critiquing a Hannibal x Glee fic. Who's the real chump here?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Worst. Therapist. Ever.

**Author's Note:**

> My friend requested Will Shue x Hannibal and I decided to use my afternoon getting this out in one go.  
> I take no responsibility for the psychic damage you take.

Will shot a series of rapid glances around the room, his watch, the antique furniture, the wall clock, his worn loafers, inspecting the scratches on the leather. He looked everywhere but at his therapist, helplessly praying that if he just pretended he wasn't there, the room would melt away and he would be back in the music room. 

Will didn't need therapy, if any faculty at McKinley needed therapy it was Sue, and desperately at that. Not Will though, he was the sanest person he knew, though considering the people he knew was a gay retired Glee club teacher and current weed dealer, a sadistic highschool cheerleadering coach who just filmed an erotic jazzerise music video with Oliver Newton John and has alleged CIA training, a cute girl with an obsession for insulting pamphlets and Rocky Horror and an adult man who believes in vampires, it isn't saying much.

''Mr. Schuester, why is it you find yourself here today?''  
The words jolted Will's attention back to the present.   
''Well, my insane co-worker framed me for her fake murder because I booked the football field before she could for my kids to perform a cult classic by Wham!-''  
''That's why the court has sent you here. Why do you think you're here?''  
Will scoffed, he wasn't a fan of this whole cryptic therapist cliche.   
''I just said-''

''You're a teacher, you must be aware of the butterfly effect. A butterfly flaps its wings and from that, a storm is born.'' Hannibal readjusted his posture as his eyes drilled through Will's head, leaving him to squirm in his chair. 

''Tell me Will, what is the butterfly flap that has given birth to your storm?''

Will tried to make his eye roll subtle as he glanced to his left and sighed in annoyance. ''Look, Dr. Lecter was it? I don't need any therapy because I didn't kill anyone. So I'd really just like to get this over with so I can get back to my kids-''

''Do you think you're capable of it?''  
Will slowly turned his eyes back to the doctor.  
''Do I think I'm capable of.. What, doctor ? Killing ?'' he spoke with indignity and his face formed a stifled frown.  
''Do you think you have the capacity to take a life?''  
''Of course not, wh- why is this even a question?!'' he leaned forward in his chair looking at his therapist directly in the eyes, the eyes that showed no glimmer of emotion or weakness. It was probably out of professionalism, but it still made Will's skin crawl.

''Do you think Cain thought the same? Do you think his destiny of bloodshed was started when he was born? That his first breath signalled the last of his brother?'' Hannibal 's face was impossible to read. ''I'm afraid I'm not that up to date on my bible stories.'' Will's offense had since turned to confusion and caution. 

''Tell me Will, do you ever find yourself overcome with anger or jealousy? Perhaps fear, or paranoia?''  
''I, i mean sometimes, not to the extent that I'd ever do anything like murder.'' Will's eyebrows furrowed, ''Do you think I'm.. Guilty, doctor ?''  
''Not at all, but I think to prove your innocence, you must put yourself in the mind of the killer they think you are.''  
''What, you expect me to start thinking like some psychopath killer?'' Will's eyes grew fearful as the doctor smiled. 

''Only the angels are free of sin.''  
A heavy silence filled the room, weighing on Will's shoulders like an oppressive force. What the hell was supposed to mean? Is this what therapy is? What on earth was he supposed to say in response to that?

Hannibal stood up and walked over to a small circular wooden table at the other end of the room that complimented the rest of the decades old furnishings of the office. ''Come, tell me what you see Mr. Schuester.''. Will stood up and followed the directions given to him in a rather commanding way that almost made him feel like he was being scolded.

When Will arrived at the table he took a step back in horror after looking at the picture laid out before him. It was a disturbingly high definition photo of a horribly mangled dead body, it was impaled on the horns of several mounted animal heads, the wallpaper, the parts not coated in blood, was red with black detailing, combined with the 40s looking wooden trim seemed to paint a picture. A trophy hunter, killed for sport with the bodies of his victims. An ironic death. 

The victim's body was cut open and the skin hung around the horns to display a vast emptiness, as his bones and organs had been taken out. 

''Why the hell did you show me that?!'' Will exclaimed, putting a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't throw up. What the hell kind of therapy was this? 

''You've made your guesses on the nature of the murder already, haven't you?'' Hannibal spoke, cold as ever with his eyes trained on Will. ''What the hell is going o-!'' Will tried to protest the unconventional methods only to be cut off. 

''Tell me the nature of this man's death.'' it was a good thirty seconds of silence before he could respond albeit with heavy reluctance.   
''I.. Guess someone who really doesn't like hunting. Maybe some kind of vegan vigilante with a sick sense of humour.''

Hannibal handed Will a new photo, this time it was of Sue's so called dead body. A much simpler death, several stabs to the chest with a kitchen knife or more accurately one faking sociopath in a bloody tracksuit who had a special effects artist owe her a favour. 

''What is the nature of this death?''  
''She's not dead, I'm telling you doc, this isn't the first time she's done this!''  
''What is the nature of the death?''  
''She's not dead!!'' 

Hannibal looked at him with the face of a disapproving father, a face that Will knew too well. He sighed and examined the picture. ''She invited him.. Me, to dinner to..'' he looked at the case of flesh flowers on the dining table in the background, an arrangement of yellow, blue and red. ''.. Make amends. Then we get into an argument, 'i' lash out in rage, taking a knife from the drawer and striking her down'' 

Will threw the photo down onto the desk and clenched his fist as he leaned against the recliner he was previously sitting in. ''Are you happy now?''

''Quite.'' the doctor smiled as he glanced at the wall clock, ''I'm afraid our time today is up.''  
Will looked at the clock in disbelief. At the start of the session the seconds seem to drag on forever, how had it been an hour already?

Hannibal led him to the door, placing one hand on the door knob extending the other to shake Will's, as their palms collided, he paused. ''Remember, Will. For as long as we are carved from the rib of God, we shall commit heresy in his name then condemn ourselves for honouring tradition.''

He let the teacher's hand go and ushered him out the door, closing it shut as Will turned around with a look of horrified puzzlement.


End file.
